How to Heal a Broken Man
by onekisstotakewithmex
Summary: Timothy McGee is a haunted man when he returns from Paraguay, and both his mental state and his relationship with Delilah are strained since his return, so for help, he turns to an old friend. McLilah, with McGee/Rachel friendship, season 14 spoilers, specifically for "Something Blue" and Rendezvous". Angsty but with a happy ending.


On his first night home, with his wife in his arms, he slept so long and so soundly that she worried that he'd died in his sleep. When he'd woken up, bleary-eyed but very much alive, he'd found her crying, and pulled her in against him to reassure her that he was home, and he was alive.

She laughed it off as an overdose of hormones and too little sleep, but he wasn't fooled. She'd curled against him, and they'd fallen back asleep, tangled.

On his second night, he'd woken in a cold sweat, still swearing he could feel the heat of the jungle around him and the cool metal of the gun pressed to the back of his head. He'd looked over, and been relieved to find that he hadn't woken his wife. She slept peacefully, but he spent the rest of the night pacing; the next day at work he sustained himself with coffee, but still went home early.

And on the third night, he'd woken from a terrible nightmare, one filled with blood and loss, and he'd screamed in his sleep, and his wife was shaking him awake. And he was shaking so much, he worried that he was having a panic attack, and he had scared his wife. He removed himself to the couch where he wouldn't disturb her.

The next morning she wheeled in to find him staring into a cup of coffee, as though it would give him all the answers, grabbed his hand, and said what he'd been dreading. "I think it's time we call someone, Tim."

"I don't need help." His voice cracked as he said it, and he took a sip of coffee. How was Gibbs dealing with it? How did anyone deal with horrible, horrible things that they'd seen, that they'd experienced?

"Timothy Farragut McGee." Her use of his full name caught his attention. He looked up, miserable, only to find her staring at him, a mixture of concern and determination. "We're going to do this together, okay? You're going to get through this. But not alone, okay hon?"

He squeezed her hand. "Okay," he said, reluctant. He stood up and walked over to the phone. "Do we still have the number?"

"It's on the contact list on the side of the fridge," Delilah said, opening a cupboard. "Oh, great. We're out of cereal."

"I can make you breakfast," he offered, the phone held in place between his ear and his shoulder.

"No, it's fine."

He set the phone down for a second, crossing his arms as he stared at her. "Delilah…" There was a note of warning in his voice.

"No, Tim, it's not because I think you're an invalid. I know you are perfectly capable of looking after both of us. But today, I think I'll look after myself." He blinked, as she rolled into the dining room to boot up her computer, and then winced to himself as the phone started ringing. Of course, he deserved her ire.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Rachel." There was a pause. "It's Tim."

"Tim, hey." He heard her yawn. "What can I help you with?"

"Listen, things… aren't great right now."

"What do you mean?" She sounded more awake, more alert thanks to his words.

"I messed up, doc. And I need help," Tim confessed, holding his breath as he awaited her answer.

"Hmm… I can meet you in an hour."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. It's a smart idea."

"It was Delilah's idea, not mine."

"I always knew she was the smart one." He could tell that Rachel was smiling.

"Where do you want to meet?"

"We can meet at the Navy Yard, if you want."

Tim hesitated. _What would the team say?_ "Uh... that's…"

"Or we can meet somewhere else. I won't embarrass you in front of the team, Tim. I may be a psychologist, but we're not inherently evil."

"I'm sorry, doc. I'm not doing a great job of being coherent, am I? I'm working on a few hours of sleep."

"I can meet you at your apartment, Tim."

"What about Gibbs?"

"I'm sure he'll understand, Tim. Call him. And Tim?"

"Yeah Rachel?"

"Breathe." He stopped for a second, eyes going wide on his end of the line. Had she spoken to Gibbs? Did she _know_?

"Thank you doc."

She hung up after promising that she would show up in an hour. McGee turned to watch his wife, sitting at the desk by the window, typing with enough force to probably dislodge a few keys from her keyboard. He wasn't sure how to proceed, but decided that he was going to make her breakfast after all. And then he'd do the thing he dreaded more than meeting with a shrink: calling in sick.

 **XNCISX**

There was a knock on the door, startling him out of a nap on the couch. He hadn't been sleeping deeply, but rubbed a hand over his face all the same. He sighed, trying to remember the last time that he'd shaved, as he stood up and walked over to the door.

He opened it and had to blink, because in his exhausted state, Rachel looked too much like Kate for his cracked and defeated heart to bear. He suddenly missed her terribly. He didn't think about her often, but something about the things he'd seen recently made him think of lives cut short.

"Tim, hey." Rachel stepped inside.

"Hi doc. Thanks for coming."

She hugged him, and the awkward moment was swept aside as they sat down at the dining table together. She cleared her throat, taking out her notebook. "We can talk seriously for a minute, but first I wanted to ask: how's Delilah?"

Tired as he was, Tim still grinned at the thought of his wife. "Glowing. And absolutely beautiful."

"I'm sure you were happy to finally tie the knot… even if it was a little early."

"Well…" Tim shrugged. "Circumstances changed. And we didn't want to wait."

"I don't blame you. But I'm sure you're excited."

"Excited… proud…" he trailed off, staring down at the table, because it wasn't just good emotions he felt about Delilah's pregnancy.

"And scared?" Rachel asked, looking him over.

He smiled wryly. Of course. Kate and her sister had always had the uncanny ability to read what he was thinking without him actually saying it. "Absolutely _terrified,_ " he said.

"I don't blame you. Fatherhood is a big responsibility."

"A huge one. And it wasn't planned… it was a total surprise. For everyone."

"Do you regret it, Tim?"

His mouth fell open, even as he considered the question. "No," he said at last. "I could never… even though it wasn't planned, we always talked about having kids eventually. And our eventually just came sooner, I guess. I just don't want to… I want to do things right."

"Pretty much every parent-to-be worries about that," Rachel commented. "Is Delilah excited?"

"She didn't know if we'd ever be able to have kids, doc. She is."

"But that's not why you called me, is it Tim?"

"It's part of why I called you. Have you talked to Gibbs recently?"

"After you called me this morning, I called him to ask a few preliminary questions. Just so I'd have some idea of what I was getting into today."

"Right. And?"

"He told me about what happened in Paraguay. How you jumped out of a helicopter when you were safe to have his back. It was very brave, Tim."

He snorted. "And very stupid."

"So why did you do it?" she asked. "If you thought it was stupid, why?"

"Because… Gibbs is like a father to me. And I'm a special agent. I couldn't just abandon him. Not after the last time we didn't have his back."

"You mean when he was shot twice. You can't possibly feel responsible."

"How can I? I was half a world away from him at the time. But he won't live forever, doc. I know that. And I couldn't abandon him to die."

"He said he tried to absolve you of any responsibility. And you refused."

"Yeah." He looked down at the table. "It was a high stakes mission. Could have cost me my life."

"And left your new wife a widow, and your child without a father."

He stood up. "I know what I did was stupid, okay doc? I don't need you to tell me when it's been going through my head over and over and over again. I don't need to hear it again when I see it in Delilah's eyes every time I look at her! I know I let her down, doc. And it kills me." He swallowed, trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat. His eyes welled up, as he stared at his feet.

"So _why_? You knew the risks, Tim. And you still jumped."

"I don't know."

"This has really been eating at you, hasn't it Tim?" she asked, gently.

He looked over, and managed a half-smile. "You're just getting that?"

"Tim. What's it been like since you returned?"

"Delilah and I have an uneasy truce. And it's fair of her to be angry. But I don't know how to explain… how to apologize for such a monumental screw-up. She deserves better."

Rachel looked at him. "Fear of the unknown."

Tim turned back to her. "What?"

"Tim, you're scared of being a father. It's something every new parent goes through, only with you… you took it to an extreme."

"But I…" He sat back down. "Yes."

"Can you explain?" Rachel asked.

"It's… doc, Delilah and I have always handled everything together… but I was scared. Terrified. I didn't know how to face being a father, so instead of facing it like I've faced everything else… I ran away."

"To Paraguay on a dangerous mission."

"Yeah. I guess…I thought if I could face dangerous rebels and bloodthirsty thugs, then maybe I could face being a dad. Flawed logic I know."

"And how long had you been married at this point?"

"About a week."

"And how long had you known about the baby?"

"The same. About a week."

"Tim, you risked your relationship, risked your life in fact, to stay behind and have Gibbs' back. Why?"

"Gibbs has relied on me for fourteen years, doc. Not Tim, the husband of Delilah, but Special Agent Timothy McGee. He's always had my back and I've had his."

"But I know Gibbs… he wouldn't want to risk you never knowing your child, Tim. He would never want that."

"I love Delilah."

"I know, Tim."

"But it hadn't sunk in yet, doc. I knew she was pregnant, knew we were married, but I'm so used to having Gibbs' back that it was second nature to jump off of that helicopter for him. And it was the dumbest thing I've ever done. I shouldn't have done that to Delilah."

"And I'm sure that Delilah knows that Tim, but have you tried explaining this to her?"

"I… I didn't know it was how I felt." He still couldn't meet her eyes, and felt as though he'd had a confession beaten out of him. He fiddled with his wedding ring, still not sure that Delilah would ever forgive him. "I'm such an idiot, doc."

"Tim."

He didn't look up. "What?"

"Timothy. Look at me, please." He looked up to find Rachel watching him sympathetically, and she'd never resembled her sister more. A few tears trickled down his face, and he buried his head in his hands.

"How can I ask her to forgive me?"

"Timothy Farragut McGee. Look at me."

He did, wiping at his eyes furiously.

"You love Delilah don't you? And your baby?"

"Without a doubt. Delilah… she's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I love her so much… it scares me."

"You have come so far from the man who couldn't be by her side after the Conrad Gala, Tim. Gibbs told me all about what you did. How you stayed up all night because you didn't know if she was okay. That's love, Tim. You two have one of the strongest, healthiest relationships I've ever seen. I know you can fix this."

"I hope you right."

"Do you love her?"

"Yes."

"Then that's all you need, Tim. Now," she leaned forward on the dining table. "Tell me about Paraguay."

 **XNCISX**

He was making dinner when he heard the door open. Rachel was leaning against the counter with a glass of wine, laughing.

Delilah rolled in, and he turned. "Hi hon. How was work?"

Delilah stretched. "It was work, Tim. What about you?" She looked between Rachel and Tim. "This feels like a conflict of interest to me."

"It's nice to see you too, Delilah." Rachel smiled at her.

"Always a pleasure, Dr. Cranston." She looked at Tim, eyebrows raised. "…Everything okay hon?"

"Better, now that you're home."

Delilah blushed, but as she opened her mouth to speak, she clearly changed her mind about what she was going to say, instead asking, "You're making dinner?"

"Yep." He looked over his shoulder, offering a hesitant smile. She was clearly trying not to smile, but it wasn't working. "I'm making pizza. Sound good?"

"Tim," she protested, now smiling. "First of all, you already made me breakfast, and second of all, it's my turn to make dinner."

"Well, you worked all day, I didn't, and in your condition-,"

"Ah, ah, ah." She pointed accusingly at him. "Danger Tim Robinson. Ten weeks!"

"Ah yes," Rachel smiled, working her way between them, as Tim took a necessary step back. "I do believe congratulations are in order!"

Delilah smiled at her, but still narrowed her eyes at Tim, not easily distracted. He hid a smile of his own as he turned back to the food prep he was working on. "Thanks Rachel. It was definitely… a surprise." She paused for a second, then amended her statement. "A happy surprise."

Rachel waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry, my first son wasn't planned either. Happy surprises are the best."

Tim turned. "Liam wasn't planned?"

"Nope. Everyone was surprised. When I called and told Kate, she freaked out. Big time freaked out. And then she asked – interrogated really, you know how she could be – if we planned it. I had to tell her no, and she laughed for a good ten minutes."

"That sounds like Kate," Tim said wistfully, but Rachel, looking between him and a confused Delilah, changed the focus of the conversation.

"So how do you feel?"

"Exhausted. Rachel, tell me, did you get terrible morning sickness?"

"Yes. It was terrible," Rachel reflected. "And this is the part where I'm supposed to say that it's all worth it, but at the time, I was wondering why I'd created that little parasite in the first place."

Delilah started laughing. "Little _parasite_?"

"Yeah." Rachel was giggling too. "I mean, in the end, it is worth it. But it sure doesn't feel like it when you're pregnant!"

"I wish I could sympathize," Tim said dryly.

"Takes two to tango, Tim," Rachel reminded him.

"And he made a fantastic dance partner," Delilah teased. She and Tim beamed at each other for a second, the newfound joy of creation sparking between them again.

Rachel made the typical Todd I-am-disgusted face. "I'm gonna go set the table, and I better not come back to find you copulating in the kitchen. Okay?"

Tim was staring at his wife, and there was a hesitant white flag of truce between them. He didn't look away from her, "Plates are on the shelf next to the cutlery drawer in the island."

"Thanks." Rachel walked out.

"You're not out of the woods yet, mister," Delilah said, once Rachel left, but then her stern face turned into a small smile. "You look happier than you have since you got home, Tim."

"Rachel and I had a good talk." He slid the pizza into the oven, before turning back to her. He walked over and kneeled in front of her. "Honey, I messed up."

"I'm not going to disagree." Her face was unreadable.

"I messed up, and I hurt you. I won't make excuses or lie about why I did it."

"What I don't get is why you didn't _think_." Her voice had dropped to a heartbroken whisper.

He felt his eyes well up with tears. "I was scared. I thought… that maybe if I could face the rebels and stand my ground… then I'd be brave enough to be a father. I am _so_ scared, Delilah." The tears overflowed, but he didn't look away.

She was crying too. "And you don't think _I'm_ scared, Tim? I'm terrified, because you and I are going to be parents, and that's scary. But I was more scared of losing you!"

"I know, and I'm so sorry. I should never have done that to you. I shouldn't have done it to you because you're my wife, because you're pregnant… and most of all, I never should have done it because what I felt when I thought you were going to die is something I'd never want anyone to experience."

"That's love for you. But you can't go get yourself killed by rebels every time you're scared, Tim. That strategy gets old fast. Marriage means that we're supposed to do this together. Not alone."

"I know." It was barely a whisper.

"Tim, honey, I don't want to live in a world that you're not in."

"And I couldn't ever be happy without you, Delilah."

"We _need_ to be a partnership, Tim."

"I know." He used a thumb to brush away one of the tears sliding down her cheek, and looked up at her from where he was kneeling. God she was beautiful, and how could he have nearly thrown his world away, thrown her away? "But you know, a very wise woman once told me that as long as we have each other, we're okay."

"I know. And we are okay. From now on though, we're a team."

"You won't hear any argument from me. God, I love you."

She giggled through her tears. "I love you too. Now come here, Timothy McGee and let me kiss you."

He obliged gladly, kissing her the way he'd thought about kissing her when he was in Paraguay, his hands still cupping her face.

He still had healing to do; they both did. But they were a team, and they would do it together.


End file.
